Assassin's Creed: Sicarii
by Owen Atticus
Summary: In the early 1990's, Israeli Intelligence developed a short-term memory recollection device used as an interrigation tool. One female agent plans to go further into a subject's memories beyond what was previous thought possible.  New cast of characters
1. Prologue

**Assassin's Creed: Sicarii**

_Prologue_

As the harsh, midday sun beat mercilessly on his face, Ezekiel, son of Amon, pulled his cloak's hood over his head and pushed off the stone wall he had been leaning against for the past hour. His muscles flexed in preparation and he focused his eyes on the sudden movement two dozen paces away. The double doors from the synagogue across the street opened up to reveal an opulent man conversing with a pair of similarly dressed citizens, each nodding at his words. He placed his hands over his protruding stomach and wished his companions well. Taking a deep breath, the tax collector hobbled down the steps of the synagogue and walked into the crowded dirt road.

The main streets of Jerusalem were filled with people going about their daily routines, and following the portly man, Ezekiel entered the flow of traffic that was heading towards the Roman Praetorium. Ezekiel found it painfully easy to track the tax collector. The traitor's gait was slow and he held his chin up like a proud fool. But Ezekiel had to time his movements properly in order to mask his true intentions. Keeping his head down, he squeezed past a trio of vendors offering fresh-cut herb plants and stepped to within arm's reach of his target.

His task was simple: assassinate the Roman sympathizer and leave undetected. Ezekiel had already mapped out exactly where he would finalize the act, and yet it was hard not to carry out the deed earlier than planned. The only information he was given on the target was a detailed physical description and the manner in which the execution should be done—by the blade. Such was any fate when one was labeled as a "Traitor of the Jews."

Right when he was preparing to attack, the tax collector unexpectedly stopped to shake the dirt from his sandals, but Ezekiel kept walking forward. He stealthily pulled his small dagger from concealment and acted as if to step around the obese man. Ezekiel placed his left hand on the tax collector's shoulder and muttered an apology for brushing up against him. Keeping his gaze on his target's eyes, Ezekiel plunged the dagger in between the folds of fat of the traitor's stomach and chest. The blade pierced between flesh and ribs, finding the heart. All in all, the assassination took place inside the span of a single breath. The tax collector's eyes widened with shock and he gave a short series of grunts before beginning to sway.

Ezekiel quickly retracted the dagger and returned it to his shoulder-slung holster. Keeping the man upright with his left hand, he waited for a pair of seconds before stepping past him. Ezekiel made it only four strides before hearing his target collapse to the ground. A woman cried out and all around him people turned to look at the fallen victim. The cloud of dust was just beginning to settle when the pool of blood soaked the dirt around the traitor.

A collective gasp echoed through the crowd and Ezekiel joined in. He pointed to the dying man and shook his head in disgust, trying his best to fit his reaction to the likes of others. Several Jewish citizens bent down and struggled to get the tax collector on his back.

They rolled him onto his side, but when his limbs flapped lifelessly and the crowd saw his blood-soaked robe, another woman yelled. "Sicarii! Sicarii!"

The gathered people hissed and gasped and their eyes began searching one another accusingly. Then panic rose among them when a pair of Roman centurions stepped forward from the far end of the circle. Each had their hands on the swords, and the crowd began to scatter, fearing the accusations and swift retribution that would surely follow.

Ezekiel walked backward out of the ring of onlookers and was soon heading back down the street the other way, leaving the confused and angered Romans to clean up the mess he had made. He remained blended with the flow of people for a quarter of an hour. When the road eventually curved to the right, he ducked down a darkened alley, shaded by the rising walls at his sides. He looked up to find the bright streak of open sky roughly four spans across and knew the distance would be similar for the previous six alleys.

Stepping over to an opened window a story up, he leaped into the air, kicking off of the west wall. He braced himself against the east wall with his left leg and continued back towards the window, bouncing from wall to wall. He reached out and his forearms found purchase on the flattened sill. Ezekiel pulled himself up and quickly turned back towards the east wall. Using all the strength in his muscles, he propelled his body over to the rooftop of the eastern building and grabbed hold of the grimy stone. His torso smacked against the wall and nearly knocked the air out of his lungs, but he climbed over the ledge to meet the sun once again.

Resting on his haunches, he eyed the distance to the western building. His first estimate was only off by a fingerbreadth and he launched himself onto the adjacent roof. Landing softly, he moved swiftly over the mix of ceramic and stone, leaping between alleys until he came to the intersection of the assassination. The last building had a slightly slanted rooftop and he bent down and perched at the edge of the roof, staying in the shadow of an old abandoned watchtower.

A new crowd had gathered around the tax collector's body. A few Jewish Pharisees were standing with arms raised, praying to Jehovah, while more Roman guards had ordered away the casual passerby. A Roman wearing a unique, red robe bent down and felt the traitor's head, neck and finally his wound. He shook his head and stood up. He exchanged a look with a centurion and the guard pointed to a random pair of Jews walking by. Looking worried, they hesitantly approached. The Roman centurion ordered the Jews to carry the dead body off in the red-robed man's wake.

As the pair of unwilling hands fumbled with the overweight tax collector, Ezekiel let a sardonic smile spread across his face. The goal of any Sicarii was to be like a breeze among the trees: present, yet lost in the chaos of the moment. Satisfied, he let out a breath. _Justice has been done_.

Taking one last look at the scene coming to a close, Ezekiel secured his cloak around his waist and started for the safehouse on the other side of the city, leaping from roof to roof.


	2. Chapter 1

Assassin's Creed: Sicarii

* * *

><p>Chapter 1<p>

_9 January 1991_

Micah Brook hurried down the east stairwell and stepped into the first floor lobby of his dorm to find it completely crowded. Everyone was huddled around the only TV in the building as all eyes were on the evening newscast flickering on the screen. Micah searched the multitude of Tel Aviv University students and quickly found his roommate standing against the far wall with his arms folded across his chest.

Micah squeezed his way through the male students and tapped Ehud on the shoulder. "What's going on?" A collection of shushes from a dozen different students answered back.

Ehud brought his head back over his right shoulder but kept his gaze on the television. His voice was just above a whisper. "The Americans are fools. They should know you can't reason with dogs."

Frowning, Micah focused in on the broadcast as the resident assistant turned up the volume. The graphic at the bottom of the screen identified the sole individual as Tariq Aziz, the Deputy Prime Minister of Iraq. The journalist began narrating when the static image shifted to a scene from a news conference earlier in the day. "_After the failed U.S.-Iraq peace talks in Geneva, Switzerland, a reporter asked Aziz this question_."

On screen, a man from the back row of seats stood up with his hand raised. "_Mr. Foreign Minister, if war starts . . . will you attack Israel?_"

Without hesitation, Aziz leaned forward and nodded. "_Yes, absolutely, yes_."

As Micah rocked back on his heels in shock at the man's statement, the group of nearly a hundred students shouted and cursed at the television. Ehud threw up his hands in disgust and stormed off towards the stairs.

The crowd began to disperse with muttered conversations and left Micah scratching the back of his head. While he was the last person one would engage in political debates, he had enough sense to know that things were quickly going downhill in the Middle East. Iraq had already invaded Kuwait, and Saddam Hussein had even called for Israel to withdraw from so-called occupied territories throughout the region. It was the kind of anti-Semitic rhetoric that made Micah's head hurt, much less want him to think about.

Part of him wanted to follow Ehud up to their dorm room and ask him what was really going on, while another part was telling him to relax and enjoy the rest of the evening. He had just finished the last of his assignments and was itching to head out to the beginnings of the Tel Aviv nightlife calling to him from the opened windows. He blinked his brown eyes and ran a hand through his thick black hair. _I've earned a little reward_.

He headed for the exit and paused in front of a mirror hanging on the wall. He examined the sleeves of his white dress shirt, pleased to see no sign of wrinkles, and fixed his collar until the top two buttons were undone. His gaze shifted to inspect his face. He still cringed at the sight of his nose—which he inherited from his mother; the slight bump just below his eye line would only get worse with age. The rest of Micah's features were a spitting image of his father, from his widow's peak hairline to his sharp, angular jaw. Grouped in with his two older brothers, Micah considered himself the best-looking out of the offspring from his father's second wife.

To his left the door opened up and Aaron, one of Micah's recently-acquired University friends, poked his head through the doorway. "Micah, you ready?" he asked, wearing a goofy grin.

"Yeah." He gave one last look at his reflection and followed Aaron outside into the warm air. "Any preference on where we go tonight?"

Aaron tilted his head in thought, his thick eyebrows meeting in concentration. "What about that club we went to last weekend?" His expression shifted to a wry smile. "The 'scenery' was nice enough."

Micah nodded in approval, but raised his hand to point down towards the opposite side of town. "Let's try that new place down the road. What is it called?"

"_Chadashot_."

As they headed south down the sidewalk Micah laughed. _Chadashot_ meant "new things" and he was sure to see the dive for all it was worth.

The Tel Aviv streets were starting to fill with the hum of excitement and anticipation as students from the university emptied the dorms wearing their usual night-time attire. Guys and girls huddled in separate packs, keeping their voices low while pointing out people of interest. It was a game they all played, but Micah was finding satisfaction more and more difficult to achieve.

He was barely twenty years old and had lived the bulk of his youth in the luxury of his father's inheritance. It was only to appease his mother that he was attending TAU, though he was the type of person that coasted through tests and exams without ever studying. The university was just a platform to get out from under the rule of his parents and experience the kind of thrills he'd seen on the television shows Micah watched when he was little. But after two years at TAU Micah was wondering if there was something more out there, something left for him to experience.

"And here we are," Aaron said, looking up at the buzzing neon sign. "_Chadashot_."

Micah came to a stop in front of the club, attempting to peer through the tinted windows slits with no result. From the outside the place looked like any other dive along the strip, save for the thick black door and lack of people lining up to enter. "You sure this place is even open?"

Aaron shrugged and offered a smile. "Sure. I bet it's packed inside." He pulled on the heavy door with two hands and it squeaked open.

Micah followed him in and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. The gentle rumble of music was increasing with each step and it did wonders to quell Micah's uneasiness. There was no one accepting a door charge so Aaron led him through the small, narrow foyer and into the horseshoe-shaped bar area. The right side was completely filled with older gentlemen nursing glasses of all sizes while the left side of the bar had a single occupant at the far end, clad in a long coat and covered by the shadows.

"C'mon." Aaron pulled Micah along to the left and tapped two fingers on the grimy bar's surface. While the bartender looked the same age as both of them, he had an air about him that spoke of hardened experience. From his calloused fingers, he handed both students the standard alcoholic beverage most people were enjoying across the way and nodded wordlessly.

"Thanks," Micah muttered under his breath.

"What?" Aaron asked over the blaring music.

Micah just shook his head and leaned back against the bar to look out at the sparsely-crowded dance floor. _Some discotec_. Lining the other surrounding half of the dance floor were mismatched tables and chairs with conflicting color schemes and gaudy centerpieces. The pulsing red lights hindered Micah's ability to see up to the DJ's perch, let alone to make out the outer walls. It all was rather odd to Micah. It appeared as if someone had pieced together remnants of several rundown clubs and called in people to fill the place as a favor. No one seemed as if they were truly enjoying themselves.

Aaron, not wanting to admit they had chosen unwisely, lifted his glass and nodded. "You want to grab a table?"

Even though Micah cringed, Aaron shoved off the bar and started for the far corner. Micah turned and tossed a collection of coins on the counter and followed his friend. As they walked past a dancing couple, Micah couldn't help but stare at the scantly-clad woman moving flirtatiously with the rhythm. He offered her a smile but her male partner quickly pulled her in for a kiss and stared knives at Micah, causing him to hurry after Aaron.

Expecting the chairs to be sticky like the bar, Micah was amazed that they were surprisingly clean when he plopped down beside Aaron. "This place is a dump," he muttered over the lip of his glass.

"We're just early," Aaron said, holding out a hand for calm as he misheard his friend's words. "I'm sure the ladies will be arriving in droves in no time."

Micah snorted at the claim and knew Aaron was hoping more than predicting. But as if to receive a mental reprimand, a stirring at the door made his eyes shift from the dance floor and spy a dozen individuals making their way inside. Their faces were mostly shadowed by the direct, overhead lighting, but Micah could clearly see four finely-dressed business men with young women on each arm. The dresses they wore shimmered blues, violets, pinks, and reds.

"See? What did I tell you?" Aaron chided.

Micah was about to concede the point but he noticed something strange about the dozen newcomers. Similar entrances were punctuated by laughter and the rest of the crowd turning to look at them with a renewed sense of excitement, but the lack of a reaction to their appearance made Micah uneasy. There was no joy in their arrival, and a cloud of tension filled the air. "This . . . could be bad," he whispered, as the music began to die down.

As the DJ changed the style of song to a more classical sound, Micah could feel his heart begin to race to replace the lack of musical percussion. He couldn't quite place the desire but Micah felt he and Aaron should leave. Through the gloom of the club he tried to locate an alternative exit they could slip out of, but there were no clearly-marked signs and the darkness seemed to swallow up the walls completely.

"Um . . . they're coming our way," Aaron hissed, finally starting to sound nervous.

Micah looked back at the group stepping past the bar and his eyes grew wide when he noticed four more individuals had joined the posse— two pairs of bodyguards were now flanking them. Though not visibly showing weapons, he knew the guards were armed to the teeth. He also knew that getting up and running away would surely draw the guards' attention so he reached slowly across the table and grabbed Aaron's arm. "Easy. Just try to act casual."

One of the guards broke rank and started for Micah and Aaron's table. The bearded man kept his hands at his sides but narrowed his eyes in a menacing manner. "What are you doing here?" he asked none-too-kindly with a heavy Palestinian accent.

Out of the corner of his eye, Micah could see Aaron completely freeze up. He took a deep, preparatory breath. "We're just here to have a few drinks," he tried, sounding more sheepish than he cared for.

The bodyguard shook his head and pointed at the table. "No. What are you doing _here_? This is _their_ table," he said, stabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the four businessmen.

Micah held up his hands. "I'm sorry, we didn't know." He patted Aaron on the arm. "Let's go," he said through a tight jaw. He stood up but Aaron was still frozen solid, unmoving. "Aaron," Micah hissed. He tried to haul his fellow student away, but Aaron wasn't budging. _Has he gone mad?_ Micah bent down and looked into Aaron's face to find his eyes wide with fright and starring at the guard.

Following Aaron's gaze, Micah swallowed when he saw the shiny metal end of an automatic machine gun resting in the holster against the guard's left hip.

"Is there a problem?" the leading businessman asked, sounding distracted as he stepped to the guard's side.

"No," both Micah and the guard said simultaneously. Micah placed both of his hands under Aaron's armpits and stood him upright. "We were just leaving." Micah pushed Aaron off to one side of the table while he circled around, abandoning his alcohol.

Aaron, still holding his glass and staring at the guard, never saw the other chair in his path and stumbled over it. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. As Aaron pitched forward, his glass angled and the dark liquid sloshed out to splash against the first businessman's jacket. The pair of women at his sides shrieked and stepped back as the grey-haired man cursed and examined his ruined suit.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, Micah was still as a stone. He watched as the bodyguard's right hand snapped out to grab Aaron's upper left arm. The guard looked once at his master and received an ominous nod. As the man clutching Aaron barked something in Arabic to another bodyguard, Micah suddenly felt the rounded end of a gun barrel at the small of his back. He glanced over his shoulder to find one of the guards had circled around and held him at gun point.

As he was pushed forward towards the darkened around below the DJ pit, Micah knew what was going to happen next. He and Aaron would be taken out back and dealt with in the most dastardly way. Micah wanted to scream, wanted to call out for help, but the barrel in his back told him any sound would result in a quicker fate.

The two University students were ushered through a previously unknown door and down a darkened hallway. Micah tried to get Aaron's attention, but his fellow acquaintance was white as a ghost and sweating profusely. An arm reached out between them and pushed open the door to the back alley where garbage bins and wooden crates lined the cobblestone lane. A strong hand on his back pushed Micah out of the building and both he and Aaron staggered into the alley.

Thinking that removal of the club was the height of their punishment, Micah forced out a sigh. But the two thugs strode out to join them, squelching Micah's relieve.

Beside him, Aaron held up his hands. "Wait a minute," he squeaked. "I'll pay for any—"

"Quiet," the guard on the left growled. He glanced over at his partner and cracked a smile. They put away their weapons and cracked their knuckles.

Micah moaned. _So it's a beat down_. He recalled the only fist fight he had ever been in was a dispute in his early teens when a neighbor had accused him of breaking his windows. Although he was guilty of the crime he resented the manner in which it was brought up and he in turn had a few bruises to show for the altercation. _But these guys could knock us out flat_.

Aaron blurted out a curse and spun on his heel to leave, but tripped on a wooden palette and crashed into one of the trash bins. Before Aaron could even hit the ground, one of the thugs stepped forward and grabbed him by the neck with reflexes that turned his body into a blur. The brute hauled Aaron to his feet and hissed something unrecognizable in his face. Micah glanced at the other bodyguard and received a shake of the head that told Micah that if he tried anything, he too would be flattened out. The thug lifted Aaron up with a massive left hand and held him at arm's length while bringing his right hand back to strike.

But the punch never landed. From out of the steamy haze of the alley's darkened corner, a shadowy figure appeared behind Aaron's attacker and snagged the thug's wrist while stomping a foot against the backside of his calve. Aaron's savior pulled the brute's wrist to the middle of his back and spun him around. The attacker lost his grip on Aaron and tried to bring his left hand around in a punch at the new threat, but the black-clad defender ducked underneath the fist and planted a booted foot against the outside of the thug's knee.

Micah cringed when he heard an audible pop. The other bodyguard snapped out of his temporary daze and reached for the sidearm he had holstered just seconds ago. "Look out behind you!" Micah warned, not risking tangling with an armed man.

The shadowy figure sprang into action, crossing the distance to the other guard before Micah had the last syllable out of his mouth, and gave an open-handed smack to the man's throat. The guard staggered backward but the shadow kept pressing, landing blows into the burly man's torso.

Beside Micah, Aaron gasped. Turning his eyes back to the first bodyguard lying awkwardly against the back of the building, Micah saw him pull out a pistol and cock the hammer. Even before he could call out another warning, the shadow half turned around and launched a shiny metallic object at the gunman. The dagger sunk into his right bicep with a sickening thud, and from his muscles tensing his pistol fired up into the air.

The shot rang out like glass breaking, completely covering up the bodyguard's cry of pain. And as if awakening Aaron from his delusionary state, he grabbed a fistful of Micah's shirt and propelled him down the alley. "Move! Let's go!"

Micah didn't need to be told twice to leave the scene, but he found it hard to tear his eyes away from the shadowy figure moving with ease to further silence the two bodyguards. A forceful shove from Aaron nearly knocked him down, but he moved in the direction of the momentum and kept his feet under him. The back alley ended and branched off in two directions and Aaron pointed to the path that would lead back to the main street.

As Aaron rounded the corner, Micah gave one last look down the alley, hoping their rescuer was winning the fight. But the battle was over and the only people left were the two bleeding and moaning Palestinians. He paused to examine the area, both high and low, and found no trace of the shadowy figure. _Whoever you are, we owe you_.

"Micah, c'mon!" Aaron pleaded, already racing down the narrow path.

His heart still racing from the moment, Micah ran after Aaron and into the safety of the sidewalk crowd.

* * *

><p>As much as Micah wanted to return to his dorm room, he convinced himself he still needed a drink to calm himself down. With Aaron's encouragement, they decided on the small diner across from the University and quickly ordered two rounds at the bar. They ended up ordering food and sat silently till their plates were empty. Both of them agreed that they would stay close to campus for a while and never return to <em>Chadashot<em>.

When Micah finally turned in for the night, he wasn't surprised to find Ehud hunched over a set of books under the bright desk lamp. His roommate was always studying, always working on coursework. Micah eased the door shut behind him and decided not to turn on the overhead light.

Without looking up, Ehud sighed. "Two in the morning is a little early for you to be sneaking in."

Micah kicked off his shoes and placed them by the door. "Rough night."

Ehud rotated in his chair and looked Micah over. "You don't look as drunk as normal."

Micah shook his head and flopped face-down on his bed still covered in unfolded laundry. "Not that kind of 'rough,'" he murmured.

Ehud rolled his eyes and turned back around. "Please, I rather not hear about your sexual endeavors."

"Aaron and I were held at gunpoint."

"What?"

Micah rolled over on his side and ran a hand over his face. "We went down to this new place on the strip and got into it with a couple of thugs," he partially fibbed.

Ehud squinted his eyes and frowned. "You don't look beaten up. Never took you for a fighter."

He opened his mouth to quickly put fact from fiction but found the words held up in his mind. As much as he wanted to tell Ehud about the shadowy figure that had came to their rescue, he knew his roommate wouldn't believe it. "We ran away."

Ehud pursed his lips. "Of course. Didn't want them to loot your lifeless form afterwards, did you?"

Micah frowned at the remark, rolled onto his back, and rubbed his tired eyes. Being a kid of privilege had its benefits, but part of the drawback was the constant slander from those students with academic scholarships like Ehud. While they both had the same grade-point average, Ehud refused to believe that Micah was naturally smart and had convinced himself that Micah's grades were bought with family money.

From his desk, Ehud sighed again. "Sorry. I've just been a bit on edge since the latest newscast."

"Things are gonna get pretty bad, aren't they?"

"If the Americans ever don't get involved we could really be in a tough situation, what with the rest of the Middle East heating up like this." Ehud turned halfway around again. "Maybe it's time you start reevaluating your priorities, Micah," he added softly.

Micah raised his eyebrows and gave an abbreviated nod. _Maybe_. He pulled the sheets up over him and turned away from the glare of both the desk lamp and Ehud's stare. Sleep came fast.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

14 January 1991

Micah turned the gas mask over in his hands and could smell its rubbery scent without trying. He looked up at the Resident Assistant and cringed. "You expect us to wear these things?"

The RA shrugged as he passed out another mask to the next one in the line that formed in the dorm's second story lobby. "If you want to take that gamble, be my guest." He handed out the last mask and stood in front of the 40 students with hands on hips. "Iraq was crazy enough to use chemical agents on their own people, so don't think they would hesitate to use the same methods on us." The RA nodded and raised his hands to send them off.

Micah rolled his eyes and turned to a stern-faced Ehud. "What?"

"You should be taking this more seriously, Micah." He shook his head and they both started for their room. "This isn't some Palestinian terror threat; Iraq is an entire country wanting us dead."

"So why don't we just bomb the crap out of them and be done with it?" Micah blew a sigh and suddenly felt tired.

"It's politics," Ehud began. "Iraq is trying to provoke Israel into fighting back, and if we do then the Arab Coalition forces teamed up with the U.N. will cease backing the war." Ehud's face scrunched up. "Cowardly tactics."

Micah frowned as they turned into their room. "You ever get the feeling that the world is against us? Against Israel?" He plopped down on his bed and picked up the pile of newspapers he had purchased from the vendor across the street.

Ehud snorted. "The world _is_ against us, Micah. It's the Americans that say they have our back. Though for how long . . ." He trailed off when he saw Micah leafing through one of the old newspapers. "You've been collecting those things for the past five days. What are you looking for?"

"A police report." Micah set the Hebrew Gazette down and picked up an Arabic paper. He could barely make sense of the language but knew the key symbols to spot. After a moment of silence Micah raised his eyes above the top of the newspaper and found Ehud's glare demanding to know more. "Okay," he sighed, knowing a full interrogation by Mossad, Israeli Intelligence, would probably be easier to undergo than his roommate's condemning stare. "You know when I told you that Aaron and I got jumped the other night? Well, we _did_ run away, but it was because someone had stepped in and started fighting the thugs for us."

Ehud folded his arms across his chest. "Who?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," he said, poking the symbols with an index finger and flexing the Arabic newspaper noisily. "He had to have been Israeli Special Forces or an undercover police officer or something. Normal people don't silence two armed men that smoothly and quickly."

Ehud took a seat at his desk and whirled around to return to his coursework. "Well, you won't be able to get any more newspapers now," he said in a tone bordering on smugness.

"And why's that?" Micah entertained.

"The entire campus is going to be under strict curfew from here on out." Ehud glanced over his shoulder. "Didn't you hear the RA talk about the upcoming announcement?"

"What announcement?"

As if on cue, the monotone voice of the University's VP broke over the audio speakers lining the hallways. "Attention students, faculty, and staff of Tel Aviv University. Effective immediately, there will be no unauthorized departures beyond campus grounds. Students are to remain in their dorms and will only be allowed to their classrooms and the cafeteria at the given times. All extracurricular activities have been temporarily suspended. Thank you for your cooperation."

Micah shoulders slumped. "There goes my life."

Ehud shook his head. "You're a TAU student. You _have_ no life."

Tossing the newspaper on his bed, Micah walked to the opened window where the morning breeze drifted into the room. He looked down at the main gate and saw a pair of University security guards stationed near the now-closed entrance. Micah held back a curse and returned to his bed. He fell right on top of the random collection of newspapers and lay back down. His head missed his pillow and this time he did swear out loud when his skull struck the metal bed frame.

To Micah, it seemed the whole world was out to ruin his life one event after another. He knew he couldn't stand being cooped up in his dorm with Ehud for long, and he wondered how his fortune might change for the better. _I'll find a way to get out of here . . . somehow_.

* * *

><p>By Wednesday, Micah had figured out how he could escape. Every Thursday night a supply truck would enter the rear gate, drop off foodstuffs and various kitchen needs, and depart early that Friday morning. If he could hide out in the bushes that lined the Cafeteria building's rear and wait till the workers had finished unloading, he could hop in the truck's bed and ride to freedom. It wasn't the most exciting plan, but it would allow him to sneak out without shots being fired. <em>Hopefully<em>. While there were many variables- and likely flaws, Micah was determined to fulfill his longing for the outside world.

As he sat in the cafeteria, mapping out his route, Micah realized the situation wasn't really that bad. He'd been under strict curfew all the time growing up under his parents, and the University lockdown had only been instigated for two days. _Is it really worth it?_ He knew the academic consequences would be minimal and nothing too severe, but there was an underlying uncertainty that he couldn't place. He knew there was a risk of war, but Micah wondered if that was anything truly new. Every time Palestinian protesters sparked the yearly _Nakba_ riot there were rumors of war, but a madman in Iraq was now targeting Israel.

Micah took another sip of his warm tea and perked up. _Wouldn't a Hebrew university be a greater target to the enemy than some club or bar? _As his mind sobered to the thought, a shadow appeared on the wooden table and he quickly turned around.

Aaron stood there with his typical, goofy grin. He circled around to the opposite chair and pointed to Micah's hand-drawn map. "You must be more bored that I am if you're drawing the cafeteria to stay busy."

Micah quickly folded his notebook and slid it under a pair of books. "Yeah, something like that." He lifted his chin questioningly. "Don't you have an exam to study for?"

Aaron waved away the concern. "I'm going to fail that class anyway." He leaned in and looked around at the sparsely populated cafeteria. "You up for an adventure?" he whispered.

Rolling his eyes, Micah sighed. "Like what?" Whenever Aaron had ideas they usually revolved around breaking into this office or that and playing a prank on an unsuspecting professor.

Aaron licked his lips. "Okay, a group of girls from the female dorms is going to meet a couple of us outside the gymnasium tomorrow night." He raised his eyebrows. "You want to come along?"

Micah frowned and leaned back in his chair. "You're crazy, you know that?" There was a strict policy against guys and girls "hooking up" on campus, which was why everyone went out to fulfill their desires. _And with this lockdown, everyone's getting antsy_. He eyed Aaron more closely. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Of course." Aaron leaned in. "Esther will be there."

Micah shook his head and snorted. Esther was an exotic beauty on campus. She had transferred from a US college last fall and was fluent in several languages. Esther and Micah even had a brief fling a while back but they both had left if open just in case and departed as quasi-friends. _Maybe this whole thing could work to my advantage . . . _

"So? You in?"

If his trip out the back gate didn't pan out, he could always meet Esther later. _And if nothing else, their little gathering could be used as a cover or even a distraction_. "Sure."

"Great," Aaron said, while slamming his hands down on the table. "I'll see you at what, midnight tomorrow?"

Micah winced. "Better make it at least an hour later than that."

Aaron stood excitedly and his chair nearly fell backward. "1:30?"

He nodded.

As Aaron left, Micah pulled out his map and began going over the cafeteria building's layout.

* * *

><p>Ehud was snoring as usual from the top bunk when Micah kicked off his own sheets and hurried out of bed. He was already dressed in dark, non-reflective clothing, but he made sure it was still stylish. Micah stepped over to his dresser and grabbed a flashlight, his billfold, and his keys. Giving Ehud one last look, Micah slipped out of the room and into the darkened hallway.<p>

His first thought was to head down to the first floor and go out through a side exit, but the chances of being spotted by patrolling security were greater that way. Micah looked both ways down the hall and headed for the darkest window where the outside lights were less revealing. At the hall's end was a pair of windows, one lined with plants and the other partially opened to allow the cool breeze to drift in, and Micah squeezed through the latter. Stepping onto the wooden trellis elicited some creaks and moans, but it held his weight till he reached the ground. Micah had used this very route before when sneaking out, but since it was so close to the RA's room, he only used it sparingly.

He walked along the building's outer wall, keeping an ear and an eye out for signs of discovery, and managed to stay in the shadows till he reached the large cedar tree at the corner of the lot. There was a rustling overhead as a bird flapped its wings and flew off an outstretched branch. Micah settled into a crouch and looked out at the opened area between his dorm building and the cafeteria. A handful of pathways leading from various other buildings to the cafeteria were flanked by ankle-high lights, but instead, Micah hurried across the grass in a hunched over trot. Once he reached the adjacent corner of the cafeteria he hugged the cool stone surface and listened for any alert to ring out. But the only sound he heard was the short, panted breath coming from his mouth.

He gave a longing look at the gymnasium building across the campus and wondered if Esther was expecting him. The collection of trees surrounding the far off building rustled in the breeze, inviting Micah forth. _Maybe later, Esther_. Though he couldn't see anyone near the gym, he knew Aaron would soon be sneaking his way to the meeting place along with the others, but it was just past one in the morning and Micah's window of opportunity was shrinking.

Staying between the wall and the double row of bushes that lined the building, Micah worked his way around the back of the cafeteria. He heard the buzzing orange light before he saw it, but coupled with the rumbling of an idling truck made for quite a disonance of sound as he poked his head around the corner. _At least they won't hear me_. From his viewing angle, he could see the delivery was almost complete by the empty wooden crates stacked on the back of the bed, waiting for someone to latch the door shut. _I cut this a little too close_.

The back door of the cafeteria swung open and two men walked out carrying a crate each. "Did you see how low their storeroom was? We're going to be making another delivery in a couple days if they keep this up," the taller man said.

"You afraid of a little overtime?" the shorter one asked.

"I'm _afraid_ we won't get paid time and a half for it."

Their collective chuckle turned into grumbling as they tossed the last two crates in the truck. The taller man pulled down the hatch and went along the driver's side while the shorter man jumped into the passenger seat. As soon as their doors closed, Micah was in motion, sprinting across the concrete towards the back of the supply truck. Once within arm's reach, the truck stuttered and Micah leaped the remaining meter to land on the bumper. He cringed when the axles let out a moan, but he held on to the latch and grabbed a handle on the side so he wouldn't fall off. Using his thumb, he flicked the latch open and ducked inside, but the door retracted and slammed upward when the truck hit a bump.

The supply truck came to a halt and Micah worked his way to the front of the bed, hiding behind the empty crates and making himself as small as possible. He held his breath.

"You forget something?" the muffled, agitated voice of the shorter man came through the thin metal barrier.

The taller man grunted and the truck dipped when he got out and circled around to the back. "This latch is busted. It doesn't even lock anymore." Through the slits in the crates, Micah watched him shake his head and pull down the door. When darkness was upon Micah once again, the taller man grumbled some more before sealing the door as best he could, and they were soon off to the back gate.

Micah forced himself to let out his breath.

The guard at the gate let them depart without incident and the supply truck rumbled down the street. Turing on his flashlight, Micah quickly pried off a wooden slat from one of the crates. He crawled to the back of the bed and swept the slat in the gap between the bed and the latch. The door popped open but Micah snagged the bottom lip before it retracted all the way up.

Outside, the dim lights of an alley illuminated the dirty side street the supply truck was bouncing down. He figured the truck was on its way back to the delivery company's garage and hoped it would reach a stopping point soon before he would be taken too far away from TAU that a walk back would take more than an hour.

Keeping the door open just high enough to see out of, Micah waited for his chance to hop out. It finally came when the truck stopped at an intersection and Micah jumped out, still keeping a grip on the door. As soon as his feet hit the pavement he eased the door down and latched it closed. He remained out of view of the mirrors till the truck sputtered away and Micah casually walked to the curb. Nearby, a lone man sweeping the steps of his shop looked up briefly but returned to his work with a shake of his head.

Micah smiled and wiped sweat from his brow and dust from his sleeves. _Now for some fun_.

* * *

><p>Micah didn't bother to hide the disgust from his face as the waitress took his order. He handed her the menu and slumped in the booth at the rearmost part of the diner. For some nationwide security reason the clubs Micah had frequented in weeks past were "temporarily closed" past midnight. The only diner open within a klick of walking distance of the University was fairly packed at this late hour and yet Micah didn't feel greedy for taking a booth all to himself. It also gave him a view of the front door to see if his "shadow" was following him.<p>

Ever since the incident at _Chadashot_, Micah had picked up on the habit of watching his back in case someone was following him. His suspicions were proven correct once before, when he and Aaron had went out for a late-night snack, and he now had the same tingle in the back of his mind that he was being followed. The mix of emotions was enough to make his stomach growl. Being denied a night of pleasure coalesced with the sense of dread that a possible Palestinian hit-man could bring.

The diner door swung open and a conservatively-dressed woman with a scarf around her neck walked in and took a seat at the bar. Her long black hair was tied in a bun and she wore little makeup. Micah would have classified her as average in every physical category but he did catch a glimpse of her striking dark eyes as she swept a casual glance over the diner's patrons. He started to wonder why a Jewish woman would be out this late at night unattended when the waitress brought back his tea and obscured his view.

"So just the tea?" the waitress asked.

He looked up at the apron-clad woman and shrugged. "And a cup of soup," he said distractedly.

"What kind?"

"Whatever, it doesn't matter," Micah muttered, but her eyebrows only rose impatiently. "The Special, then."

"Tomato it is," she murmured and walked away.

Micah breathed a quiet sigh of frustration but knew having time away from TAU was worth the risk. Even if his expectations of the high-life were cut down to having soup and tea in a dingy diner.

Settling into the thick fabric of the booth's seat, he started to look around and assess the people. One table held four policemen, which made Micah feel equal parts comfortable and uncomfortable, but they looked as if they were ready for the check. There were numerous couples plainly dressed, filling the smaller booths along the wall, while older men took up half the bar. It was then that Micah realized he and the female newcomer were the only patrons that looked out of place. Micah was dressed for a night out, while the wandering woman was an oddity.

The waitress returned and slid the soup and the check onto the table. "Here you go." She looked up at the departing officers and leaned forward towards Micah. "I'd hurry back to school, if I were you," she said quietly.

Micah snorted out of reaction. "I'm not a student."

She gave him a look that only a condescending mother could give. "Just hurry it up, okay?"

As Micah frowned, he noticed one of the departing policemen give him a glance full of suspicion. Micah gulped three spoonfuls of the lukewarm soup and kept his head down. Surprisingly, the soup was very tasty and he lapped the bowl clean in between sips from his tea. As the minutes turned into chunks of an hour, more and more people left without others coming in to replace them. The cook behind the window to the kitchen snuffed at Micah when their eyes met and he got the hint.

Leaving an adequate tip, Micah Brook slid out of the booth and started for the door. It was then that he noticed the peculiar young woman wasn't at the bar anymore, but he continued his winding path through the empty chairs to meet the cool evening wind outside the glass door. Feeling defeated, he shoved his hands into his pockets, and started north, back to the University. _So much for a fun night out_.

He had made it almost two blocks down the street when a faint wailing began to crescendo. Micah looked over his shoulder but the sound seemed to be coming from all around him. Then it hit him: warning sirens. _Harah_, he swore. Suddenly, every light in the city winked out, leaving him standing in total darkness and without bearing. He looked up into the sky and stood with mouth agape. Countless tracer rounds began to rise up from military installations strategically placed all over town as they fired at unseen ballistic missiles. The distant thump of the anti-air guns sounded like a cacophony of drums.

"Hey!" a voice snapped, temporarily jolting him out of his stupor. Micah turned around and found the long-haired woman from the diner reaching for his arm. She grabbed on and pulled him after her. "There's a shelter over here. C'mon!"

Without protest, Micah followed her, though her death grip on his forearm allowed no other choice. Bomb shelters were placed throughout the city, with many buildings being labeled as such, and most were within a few seconds walk from anywhere. The light show in the sky illuminated their path, but the woman led him down an alley and past a sturdy looking building. "Hey, you just past one!"

Either she didn't hear him or chose not to respond. They flew down a set of stairs and into what looked like an underground sewer tunnel that had been converted into a vendor's marketplace. Micah pulled out his flashlight and offered it to the woman to guide them through the darkness. But again, she ignored him and broke right through an unmarked door. It nearly shattered as she bulldozed through.

"Where are we going?" Micah demanded, beginning to feel more frustrated with her than worried about his safety.

"Quiet." She hauled him left then right down a hallway, and after traveling down another flight of stairs they came to a solid metal door with a flickering light above it. She slid a key into the padlock and pulled the heavy door open.

Micah stepped inside and the woman shut the door behind him. She brushed past him and turned on a desk lamp to illuminate the room. It wasn't what he had expected. Lining the wall to his left was a drafting desk and an army cot; while on the opposite wall was a collection of old and new radio transmitters on a large wooden table. Two chairs gathered under the table, both looked ancient and worn. "How do you have power down here?"

"This place isn't connected to regular electric lines." She pulled her scarf off and placed on the desk. "We're safe down here." The woman folded her arms across her chest and turned to face Micah.

Finally getting a better look at her, Micah noticed that she possessed a natural beauty that cosmetics would only cover up. Her stance appeared to be casual, but Micah could see a hidden tension in her jaw that said she could put him out cold if she wanted to. "Who are you?"

"My name is Daniela," she offered without as much as a smile, "and you have something I need."

Micah instinctively held up his hands and took a step back. "Whoa, lady. If it's money you want, I don't have any on me," he lied.

Daniela rolled her eyes. "I don't want your money, though I know you are wealthy." She took a step forward and tapped a finger to his temple. "What I need is something that's been passed down to you. Something in here."

Confusion rippled his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"I need the memories implanted in you."

Micah shook his head in complete confusion. "What? Why my memories?"

Daniela finally let a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. "Not _yours_, but those of your ancestors." She smiled fully and Micah couldn't help but feel intimidated by her predatory look. "With your lineage, I'll be able to find what I'm looking for."

"And that is?"

"Something that can grant both of us freedom."


End file.
